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  “I seek Prince Jareth’s punishment,” he said, confirming her suspicions. He raised his chin, his pride unmistakable. “Our war has lasted eons.” The ferocity in his tone proclaimed, Not long enough.

  “So you abused me to punish him?” she demanded.

  “I did.” He offered the words without a hint of remorse. “I live to punish him.”

  Punish. Had Jareth the wife killer harmed someone Kaysar loved?

  And he thought it made his actions okay?

  Forget leaving him hard and wanting. Beneath her anger, hurt seethed. If she punished him for punishing someone else, then Kaysar had a right to punish her. A never-ending cycle. She sank to her knees and stuffed her belongings into her satchel—she’d earned these items. “I owe you a warning, so here it is. I’m leaving you.”

  Whoosh. Cookie blinked, her entire world suddenly upside down. No, right side up. Kaysar had flittered over and tossed her to the ground, pinning her beneath him. He loomed over her, one hand restraining her arms over her head, the other gripping her throat, the tips of the metal pressing into her skin.

  The savagery in his face intensified the vulnerability of her pose. Those whiskey eyes glittered as he wedged a massive erection between her thighs.

  “You will not leave me.”

  Her heart thundered, even as her blood heated. Not even the slightest bit afraid. Rather, her confidence reached new heights. This lethal king might wish to strike at Jareth, delighting in his petty retaliations against the prince’s “wife,” but he did crave Cookie. That, he hadn’t lied about.

  Hurt receded.

  Unflappable? Watch me.

  “What’s the matter, Kaysar?” she purred, cradling his body against hers. “Has your raging hard-on for me left you cranky?”

  He flinched but recovered quickly. “You will not leave me,” he repeated. “Until I’m finished with you, we stay together.”

  Finished? With her? Dream on. “Stop me from leaving you in my dust. If you can.” Her smirk slipped free, suddenly on full display—because she let it slip free. “If I fail to discover another doormaker, if I never recover the ability to open a door myself, I’ll still find a way home.”

  Different emotions tinged his features, each one steeped in despair. “Leave me, and I’ll hunt you. I’ll find you, Chantel. Nothing will stop me.”

  Cookie smiled sweetly at him, wrenched a hand free and rammed the heel of her palm into his nose. Cartilage snapped, blood flowed.

  “Go ahead. Threaten me again,” she said, “and I’ll hurt you.”

  Other than a whip of his head as he absorbed the impact, he displayed no reaction to her strike—which proved shockingly hot. “Lulundria is the key to my vengeance against the prince,” he continued without a hitch. “Therefore, you are my key. You will aid me, Chantel. Willingly. That is not negotiable.”

  “I’m not your anything,” she said, and she meant it. “I could have been your friend and your teammate, but you ruined it.”

  Had he just cringed? “You will stay with me, and I’ll do better. I’ll choose a different path for you. I’ve already strayed from the original.”

  From threats to false promises. “Too little, too late. I said we’re done, and I meant it.”

  “I...made a mistake,” he rushed out. “I didn’t know you when I fashioned my first plan. It was an eternity ago.”

  “An eternity,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And you think you know me now?” Days later?

  “I know you better.” He nodded for emphasis. “I know you would be very upset if I harmed or misled you again.”

  Realizing he couldn’t keep her without her cooperation? Or did his burgeoning desperation stem from a different source? As he’d spoken, he’d gently rocked against her, as if he’d lost the battle to remain immobile.

  To her consternation, the soft bump and grind coaxed an embarrassing amount of wetness from her. She stifled a needy gasp.

  “You had a chance with me, Kaysar. You blew it.”

  “You hope to leave your Claw Man?” Rock. Rock. He applied more and more pressure, until suppressing a gasp was the least of her worries. “Or come on him?”

  “Neither? Both?” So good! Cookie couldn’t stay still. She undulated her hips, meeting his next grind and groaning. Her gaze dropped to his soft lips. So badly she wanted his mouth on hers.

  Maybe...maybe she should stay a little longer? No, he’d done her wrong! She shouldn’t do him right. “You won’t seduce me into changing my mind.”

  “What if I only wish to seduce you for now?” he asked above her, fierce and carnal. Fatal to a woman’s resistance. He smelled like sunshine, soap and sandalwood, and every inhalation left her light-headed. “You make my body want things it’s never desired before.”

  “That means my plan is a success. Your body can suffer as mine did.” She’d meant to make a bold statement. She’d uttered a raspy taunt instead.

  “You seek the suffering of my body? Mission accomplished, little doll.” He swooped down, as if to slam his mouth against hers. A split second before contact, he stopped, as if he dared not take what wasn’t offered. Warm exhalations fanned over her face, tickling her sensitive skin. “Are you pleased to know I’ve never suffered like this? That I hunger in ways I didn’t know I could? With your need and your trust and your everything, you’ve frayed my control as no other.” He revealed a grin far smugger than hers. “But you hunger, too, don’t you, sweetling? I scent your arousal. It is the sweetest perfume.”

  Heady admission. Sumptuous ferocity. Dangerous question. “Maybe I do.” Time for Kaysar to learn a hard truth about her. “I’m petty enough to deny myself pleasure, as long as you’re denied it, too.”

  His pupils dilated as if she’d uttered the most provocative invitation. He appeared spellbound. Enthralled. “Pleasure. Yes. I want it. Give it to me.” His inhalations grew ragged. “I gave you my truth, after all. Now you are supposed to offer me a reward.”

  He nearly enthralled her. He...his tone. Agonizing need saturated every note. He had instigated this showdown. This was his version of a confession. Maybe even an apology. Because he expected—pursued—a do-over with her?

  Not good enough. Her eyes slitted. If he sought absolution, he’d picked the wrong girl. “Reward you for finally giving me what I’m owed? No.” But oh, the wanting refused to fade. Heat poured from him, cocooning her more surely than her vines ever had.

  “Let me go,” she rasped.

  “Pleasure,” he repeated, as if the word had gotten stuck in his brain. “I’ve never tasted of it, and I want to. With you.” He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “If you tell me to let you go again, however, I’ll do it.”

  He’d never tasted of pleasure? Impossible. But intrigue remained. He did appear entranced by the thought of a simple kiss, staring at her lips as if they held the key to life’s greatest mysteries. No other man had ever looked at her like that.

  Confidence merged with vulnerability, creating...something else, and her breath shallowed. She imagined being the first woman to ignite passion in Kaysar, and oh, the challenge appealed. So did the power. Would any triumph be greater? Afterward, she could walk away, as planned. Because he was right. She did hunger for him, and it wasn’t going away.

  Why should she pass up an opportunity to rid herself of her curiosity?

  “You want a taste of pleasure?” She licked her lips and rasped, “Come get it, your majesty.”

  Need thrummed from him. Little by little, he eased his lips to hers.

  She waited, suspended on a cloud of eagerness and uncertainty...

  Contact.

  Her breath caught. He applied the barest pressure, there but a moment and so gentle she had no defense against him. He...he...

  What was happening to her? With a brush of his mouth, he depleted her anger.

  He did
n’t pull back, but hovered his face over hers as he rocked against her. The barely-there caresses hastened her to the edge. She arched and—friction!

  Cookie whipped her hips, grinding against his shaft. They cried out in unison. But he didn’t speed up or rock harder. He kept her wanting...addicted.

  They breathed each other’s air and panted. She grew wetter, trembling and aching, her arousal unfathomable. How much longer could she bear the acute sharpness? Every part of her remained aware of every part of him.

  “Twelve months of torture, yet you are becoming my greatest torment.” He appeared dazed—or crazed. Did he even know what he was saying right now? “I never want you to stop.”

  Twelve months of torture? The reason for his war with Jareth? No wonder Kaysar demanded retribution. No matter who he had to hurt.

  A need to comfort him drew a ragged moan to the surface. Voice breaking, she commanded, “Kiss me, Kaysar. Kiss me and don’t stop.”

  He dove down. Blessed contact. A man possessed, he thrust his tongue against hers. He devoted himself to the kiss, claiming her hard. Claiming her well.

  The decadence of his flavor left her reeling. They fed from each other, as if starved. How did such soft lips deliver such powerful bliss? Beneath the gown’s flimsy fabric, her nipples throbbed for him. Between her legs, a sublime ache intensified.

  He rocked against her, the friction better than before. Divine. Then he did it again. And again. Rubbing.

  She broke his hold on her wrist to scrape her thorn claws through his hair.

  He closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the contact. Slowly, he glided his hand from her throat to her breast.

  “Yes,” she cried as he kneaded her. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched her nipple. Moaning, she arched into his hold. Worked up so intently, so quickly? “More, Kaysar.”

  His touch roughened. His kiss became wonderfully aggressive. When he lowered his head to tongue the rushing artery he’d threatened only seconds ago, she gasped.

  “You want more? I will give you everything,” he vowed fiercely.

  Mmm, that voice. The pure, undiluted authority of it. She rocked her hips, driven by raw instinct. Feeling more vulnerable and raw with every new sensation he elicited, she fisted his tunic, only to frown when she realized what she’d done. As a child, she’d grabbed her parents’ clothing to capture their attention. A habit she’d conquered years ago. Why did it resurge now, with him, a temporary diversion?

  A worry for later. Must get rid of the tunic. Yes. The source of her trouble. Pulling at the material, she commanded, “Off.”

  After Kaysar wrenched backward, she expected him to clasp his shirt’s hem. He remained immobile instead, panting and stiff. He searched her gaze, his own teeming with horror and shame, as if terrible memories danced behind his eyes.

  Golden glass shards seemed to shimmer around pupils the size of dimes. Lines of tension branched from the corners of his mouth, where his skin pulled taut. A hated contrast to his red, kiss-swollen lips.

  The sight of him like this hurt something inside her.

  “Did I harm you, sweetling?”

  Harm? Why would he think so? She shook her head. “No, not at all.” Just before he’d ended the kiss, she’d used the word off in hopes of undressing him. Was it possible he’d mistaken her meaning? That he believed she’d ordered him to stop?

  The horror-tinged shame roused terrible suppositions.

  She must have made a face he perceived as pitying. His cheeks flamed, and he reared further back. But he didn’t stomp off. He stood before her, a muscle jumping under his eye. As he examined her, his expression iced over. A corner of his mouth tilted in a sneer. “Your husband will be displeased when I describe this indiscretion. I think he’ll be particularly interested in the way you begged me for it.”

  Oh, that cut. Did she understand why he’d said it? Yes. He was lashing out over the misidentified pity. It sucked—he sucked, too, kind of—but she did understand. She had probably done the same to others. If probably meant definitely. But what sucked the most—he meant those words. He wanted to tell Jareth; an undercurrent of glee had given him away. Which made her speculate about other things...

  Had he attempted to save Lulundria from Jareth simply to hurt the other man?

  “How original,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “The big, bad man-boy brags about his prowess over the easy conquest.” Cookie eased to her feet and arranged the folds of her skirt as if she hadn’t a care. “I hope you enjoyed your first taste of pleasure with me. Because it was also your last.”

  “We do not split up,” he grated.

  Right now? No, they didn’t. If she fled, he’d chase and catch her. But she could bide her time... “Trust me, Casanova. We won’t be together much longer.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’m more sorry for my outburst. You didn’t deserve it. I just... I don’t like how needy you’d made me feel, and I reacted poorly. This is all so new to me. I’m floundering. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.”

  His honesty about his emotions astonished her. No other boyfriend had ever apologized or copped to feeling needy. Not that Kaysar was her boyfriend. But maybe she should give him another chance as her guide?

  Argh! How did he do this to her? One second she wanted to leave ASAP, the next she wanted to glue herself to his side.

  “The time for misleading and threats is over,” he said. “I’d like... I think we should be teammates. Real ones.”

  “Excuse me?” She sputtered for a moment. “The killer has jokes.”

  He pursed his lips. “Jareth is a vile male. He and his family did vile things to me as a child. You can help me hurt them.” Angry, hopeful and hesitant, he ducked his head and lifted his gaze to her. “Will you help me, sweetling?”

  Oh, he’s good. There was a hundred percent chance he was toying with her emotions right now. Because there was no way, just no way, a man as powerful as Kaysar could be as vulnerable as he currently appeared.

  But what if he’d spoken the truth? What if Jareth and his family had done vile things to young Kaysar?

  Could she really let the murderer of an innocent off the hook? Didn’t she owe Lulundria a debt? What better gift could Cookie give the woman than delivering total retribution to her killer?

  Kaysar could help her.

  Once again, she switched directions. “All right,” she said with a nod. Decision made. “I’ll give you a second chance, and I’ll willingly team up with you. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll even help you hurt Jareth. But you better treat me right, Claw Man, or I’ll ditch you at the first opportunity.”

  “Yes.” He clasped her by the waist and drew her close for a hug. “I will treat you right. I’ll learn how.”

  His earnest expression did strange things to her insides. “There’ll be no sex, of course.” He’d ruined the attraction when he’d sneered. “I’ve forever removed the option from our table.”

  A harsh denial burst from him. “Sex is pleasure, and we both need pleasure. But sex is also vengeance. I demand it.”

  Hardly. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but your war plan just got tweaked. Jareth is gonna die badly.” For Lulundria.

  A deadly, unholy rage descended over Kaysar. “No one kills Jareth. Not even you. Do you understand?”

  The malice he projected...yikes. “You want to torture him while we search for the doormaker, fine, let’s torture him instead of killing him. I can aid you without putting out. And don’t tell me I have nothing to offer but my body. In my world, I’m a gamer, and I play a video game set in yours. If the kingdom beyond the waterfall is the one I think it is, I know the terrain’s traps, tricks, and poisons. I’ll ensure Jareth pleads for death.” There were ways...

  With her words came a new influx of confidence. W
ith the confidence came clarity and acceptance. She had a marvelous weapon at her disposal, too—the ability to change personalities at will. It wasn’t a burden, after all, but a tool to be utilized.

  Utilize it, she would.

  Cookie smiled at Kaysar, who watched her warily now. Finally, she knew what she was doing. This was a team sport. Her specialty. Jareth didn’t stand a chance.

  Game on.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WITH HIS MIND a war zone, Kaysar stripped to his skin and dove into the pond. The cool water did little to temper his frenzied emotions. Only short moments ago, he’d been consumed with need as he’d kissed Chantel, feasting on her lips, his every thought attuned to her, and her alone. His past? His vengeance? Forgotten. He’d disregarded everything but the stunning woman in his arms. How sweet she’d tasted. Sweeter than her scent had promised. The softness of her silken skin was a revelation. Her breasts had filled his hands, her hard nipples abrading his palms as he’d kneaded. His control had dissolved.

  Her kiss had breathed life into him, his body no longer his but hers. Theirs. What she’d desired, he’d longed to give. He’d felt compelled to give, as if he’d uttered the order to himself.

  At the time, he’d thought he’d loved the heady sensations. Now he had doubts. Neglect his vengeance, even for a moment? How could he dare?

  He couldn’t get lost in the princess again. But keep his distance from her? When her curvy little body all but wept for his? Impossible. His shaft throbbed unbearably for her. Impaling her topped his agenda for the day. He just had to convince her to put sex back on their table.

  Could he?

  He must.

  He would.

  Kaysar whipped his gaze to her for the hundredth time, unable to halt the action. She perched on the shore, barely covered by the pink dress he’d insisted she wear after he’d noticed the blood he’d deposited on the green one. Her beauty robbed him of breath.

  After donning the garment, she had softened immensely, becoming shy and playful—battering his defenses with stronger force.